I Wish I Could Fix You And I Wish You Could Fix Me
by shingeki-no-Marukaite-Chikyuu
Summary: My life should be perfect now, I have a loving wealthy family, I should be thankful. Why do I feel like no one cares about me? Consider yourself lucky. You have not gone through hell like I have. RusCan. TRIGGER: Anorexia, cutting, rape, parental abuse, self-harm, suicide attempts, depression. It's rated M for a reason, please do not read if you can't handle it. Summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

Summary

Matthew has spent his first five years of life in an orphanage, wondering why his parents left him. Then hewas adopted by Arthur and Francis Bonnefoy-Kirkland and their other adopted son, Alfred. The family rich and well off in a high-class neighborhood. Life was perfect until one day that Mathew lost all the already little hope in his life. Depression and his blades control whether he lives or dies. It does not help when you're invisible to most people too.

Ivan's family was not as wealthy as Matthew's but the same love filled though the household. That is until the death of his mother from cancer. The bills and the lack of love drove Ivan's dad into a drunken rage, punishing his children whenever possible. Unlucky for Ivan, he has a secret that he knows that his father will kill him for, his sexulatity. The abuse and friendless causes him to be intimidating and rise his anorexia, depression, and the need for self-harm.

Can these two find and heal each other and before it is too late?

My Side of the Story

I lay on my bed listening to My Chemical Romance on my Ipod and studying for my French test on Friday. Then I heard Dad call Alfred, my brother, for dinner. I take off my red headphones, roll off my bed, and walk towards the door. When I open the door the smell of burnt food fills my nostrils. _I see that Papa isn't home yet. One the house smells like it was on fire, and at least he would have remembered to invite me to dinner._

* * *

Yes I have two dads and Alfred and I were adopted. I was born in Canada on July 1, and put up for adoption when I was a baby. Whenever I asked the people at the orphanage about my parents they told me they will tell me when I'm 18 or my adoptive parent will tell me, that was their policy. I still have no idea, they probably did not want a loser like me, so they gave me away. When I was five, Dad and Papa adopted me and I moved to America with them. They already had Alfred, who was born three days after me, but he is always considered the older one. I've always assumed that it was a set up adoption with Alfred. His mother could not take care of him and planned to give him to my dads when he was born. So he could have a better life. Surprisingly Dad and Papa let us keep our parents' last name, instead of changing it to Bonnefoy-Kirkland. That's why people find it hard to believe that we are siblings. He's last name is Jones and mine is Williams, very common last names. Thus making is hard to track our parental parents. My dad is an English professor at Yale college and an editor for a publishing company. My papa is fashion designer, mostly focusing on gowns and tuxedos for proms and weddings. He is very popular and gets celebrities and clients from around the world. We live in suburbia in Fair Haven Heights, New Haven, Ct in a big house, 5 bed, 8 bath, thanks to my fathers' well paying jobs. There is a patch of woods nearby our house I like to walk through it and clear my mind. We also go to Hamden Hall, a private school about 3 miles from our house.

* * *

I trudge down the stairs and walk into the kitchen. Alfred is gorging in his meal and Arthur greets me when I walk over to the stove. Normally we would eat in the dining room if Papa is there, but if not then we eat in the kitchen. Almost everything is either burnt or unappealing, it's a good thing that you can't screw up a salad that much.

"Ahh, Mathew I thought you had practice and would not be eating with us."

"No, Dad, I do not have practice today." _I only have practice on Tuesdays and Thursdays now with marching band. It's Wednesday and hockey and yearbook has not started up yet. But they do not pay attention to me as they do for Alfred, especially you. _Dad and Papa have their favorites and they try to deny it, but it is enviable. Alfred is Dad's and I'm Papa's. Like I said before, Dad tends to forget about me, a lot.

* * *

Alfred is the high school super star jock. Football, soccer, basketball, baseball, track and field, class president, and rugby to name a few. For most of them he is the captain or co-captain. I am in all the musical activities, yearbook, hockey, and lacrosse. Dad and Papa were so proud when Alfred was named soccer captain last year. "Only a freshmen and he is already a captain." Dad praised.

"This calls for a celebration" Papa suggested. Later that night we went out to dinner and then out for ice cream. However when I made captain for hockey and got first trumpet in the band, they went completely unnoticed. They barely go to my games and competitions. But dare not miss one of Alfred's games.

* * *

I take my seat at the table with majority of my plate consisting of salad, along with a little cooked and burnt rice mixed together, and a half burnt chicken breast covered in different spices. I pick at my food a little bit before Alfred starts the dinner conversation. "Hey Dad, where's Papa?"

"He's still at work. He called me earlier. Apparently he has a real bridezilla, who keeps changing her mind on what she wants for her gown."

"Okay, Dad" he responses with a slight disappointment in his voice. I close my eyes so Dad does not see my eye roll and gain suspicion. Alfred and I have figured out that when Papa normally says that he'll be late, he's cheating on Dad. The thought makes the memories float back into my head, making my stomach turn. I don't feel like eating anymore of my horrible dinner.

"Dad, may I please be excused. I'm not that hungry." I ask.

I can see a slight bit of disappointment in his face since I have not eaten all his delicious dinner. "Are you sure? You barely had any of my braised chicken with figs, honey and vinegar. Are feeling all right?" Dad walks over to me and places his hand on my forehead. "You're not warm. Are you sure everything is okay."

"Yes, Dad, I'm just not that hungry." I leave the table and walk towards the stairs. Once I out of sight and hearing, I run up the stairs to my room. I floponto my bed, searching under my pillow for a tiny wooden box that I make in 7th grade wood shop. I finally find it and run to the bathroom that adjoins Alfred's and my bedrooms. I lock the doors and open the box with a red maple leaf on the top. Inside are my collection of blades, pins, needles, and other small sharp objects that I have hoarded for about five years now. Ever since that day and I started this horrible habit. I know, I can kill myself with the wrong swipe, but the rush and the actual blood seeping from my arms and legs releases the hurt and pain inside. I pick a blade, I want to see blood immediately. Needles and pins I use for a quick release or to write negative words on my body. I roll up my sleeve to reveal the multiple scars and cuts I have caused to myself. I inhale as the cold blade touches my skin. I slash at my skin and the blood rolls from my skin. I wince at the impact, but the pain releases my stress and fear. I once slice once at my skin. I do not know how long it will be before Alfred comes up and catches me. I wash off the blood and bandage my new cut.

I'd admit, I've had a few close calls with Alfred catching me cutting myself. A lot more recently too. I want to cut on my thighs more so he won't gain suspicion. However, my legs are raw with scars from the summer. i want some of them to heal before cutting my legs again. Plus its fall and winter in not too far behind. It will be easier to hide my arm scars with layers.

I lie in my bed trying to focus on French again. Nevertheless, the memories of that one day haunts me. _Why can't Papa just be happy with Dad? Why does he has to satisfy his needs with other women? If Dad ever finds out again, my life will be hell again. _Eventually, I pass out.


	2. Chapter 2

Painful Memories

Papa has a problem with cheating on Dad, especially with his female clients. If they are a problem, it more likely that he is doing them or wants to do them. Of course Dad is oblivious to this, but one time Dad did find out. I remember it perfectly, it was about five years ago, when Alfred and I were ten. One of his students told him one afternoon, after all his classes, that his whore of a husband ruined her best friend's wedding. Apparently Papa had sex with the bride, her boyfriend found out, and canceled the year long planned wedding, of which she was suppose to the maid of honor. After the scolding from the angry bridesmaid, Dad drove as fast as he could home. Papa picked us up from school so he was home watching us and working in his studio. Alfred and I were in the den watching television and working on our math homework. Well I was doing homework, Alfred was too involved into the T.V. He nearly crashed into the garage when he arrived and slammed his car door.

"FRANCIS BONNEFOY-KIRKLAND! YOU GODDAMN SON OF A BITCH!" he screamed from outside.

Immediately Papa comes running through to the front door. "Boys, go upstairs, s'il vous plaît." I grabbed my supplies and run upstairs. Dad was mad as ever and he has always had bad temper. It's best not to get into his way. Alfred, on the other hand, did not heave Papa's warning and continued to watch cartoons on the television. I press my ear down to the floor so I can hear the argument. "Arthur, what is wrong? Please watch your language so that the boys and the neighbors don't hear you." He tries to calm Dad down but that's when everything blew up.

"SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH, YOU FROG!" He enters the home and smacks Papa across the face. I cringe at the sound of the hand hitting my Papa's beautiful face. Finally Alfred is snapped out of his daze and runs up the stairs. "GOOD, I WANT THEM TO KNOW THAT YOU ARE A LIAR AND A GODDAMN CHEATING WHORE!"

"I would never try to cheat on you." Papa lies, making it worse.

"YOU BLOODY FUCKING FALSIFIER! GET AWAY FROM ME AND MY HOUSE!" Dad screams. He must have thrown something at Papa because the yell is followed a loud crashing sound of glass.

Now Papa is mad as well. "YOU CAN'T KICK ME OUT OF THE HOUSE! ESPECIALLY WITH YOUR TEMPER AND THE BOYS HERE!" A continuation of yells, curses, in both English and French, crashes, broken items, ect. finally ends an hour later, when Papa is feed up. "YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DON'T DESERVE ME! HAVE FUN WITH YOUR FUCKING PATHETIC LIFE!" he slams the door so hard that it rattles the house. I run out of my room and sneak past Dad though the back door to try to let Papa take me with him. But he is gone before I could remind him that Alfred and I were still there. I guess we have to put up with Dad for the night. Not wanting to go back into that mess I decide to take a walk in the woods. I try to slip back into the house and my room about a half hour later, but Dad catches me. He reeks of alcohol and he has a bottle of ale in his hand. He must have started drinking since Papa left.

"I thought told you to leave, frog." He slurs. _OH SHIT! He thinks I am Papa! _

"No Dad, I'm Matthew." I plead hoping he can distinguish between me and Papa. Papa and I both have wavy blond hair and similar figure. The only difference between us is I have a stubborn curl at the top of my head, purple eyes, and glasses. However it does not works. He grabs my wrists and drags me through the house. I finally see the damage that my fathers have caused. Furniture are toppled over, lamps broken, the T.V. has cracks in the screen, picture frames tilled and broken, glass and alcohol bottles litter the floor, the house was a complete mess. After I see the house in shambles, he pushes me down to the glass covered floor and smacks and beats me. The punches and the shards of glass sting my skin as I am held and pushed on the ground. At some point he knocks off the glasses off my face. He grabs a glass shard and slashes at me. I try to crawl away from him multiple times, but grabs and pins me down again. I cry and scream " Dad! Please stop! I'm Matthew, not Papa.", repeatedly, hoping Dad… Alfred... anyone… would come to help me.

Finally Alfred comes downstairs to help me. He tries to pull dad off of me, as trying to convince Dad. "Dad that's Mattie! Please stop, you're hurting him!" Dad gets off of me and turns to smack Alfred in the face. Tears start to well in Alfred's eyes, his sea blue eye full of hurt. For a moment Dad is broken from his drunken rage. He then turn to see that I am not Papa.

"Bed the both of you, Now!" I quickly get up from the floor and run up to my room before Dad changed his mind. I fumbled a bit without my glasses up the stairs and blindly found my room. I slam my door shut, wishing that I could lock the doors so I could be alone. I hide in my hiding spot, under the bed, and continue to bawl my eyes out. I wish that I was able to run into the woods, my safe haven. But I do not want a repeat of the recent events. _No one loves me, not Papa, Dad, or Alfred. They only care and listen to Alfred, not me. Papa left me here with Dad. Dad kept beating me until Alfred showed up and he only stopped when he realized he hit Alfred, not when I was persistently trying to convince him that I was Mathew. God knows how long before Alfred can down to save me. _I bring my hand towards my face to wipe the tears from my eyes. My face hurts from the touch and I look at my hand. Blood from the glass on the floor. I'm not sure if it is from my face or my hands. _Great there is no way they can hide this. I going to be taken by child services and back to the orphanage. I should have never been adopted, no one wants a weakling like me._ I don't know how long Alfred was in my room before he spoke up. I didn't even hear him open the door. I wish it wasn't long, I don't know if my inner thoughts escaped from my brain and Alfred heard me.

"Mattie? Where are you?" I don't answer. "Come on Mattie! I know you're in here, you slammed the door after you ran upstairs. Talk to me!" Silence. "Fine I'll find you." I hear the footsteps roam my room. I hold my breath hoping that Alfred will give up and leave. The closet door opens, this could be my chance, I can slip out and hide in another room before he checks under the bed. I slip out the other side and slowly get up to run away. "Ha, so you were under the bed." _Shit it was a trap, I should have known better. _I try to go back under the bed, hoping he would get a hint, but it fails. He climbs under with me.

"Go away! I want to be alone!" I finally tell him, pushing him away from me.

"No way, Dad hurt you and you need help getting cleaned up!" He then grabs my hand and drags me out from under the bed. I figure it's best not to fight him. One he's stronger, two the sooner he knows I'm fine the sooner he'll go. He takes me to the bathroom we shared that connects our rooms. I finally see the damage Dad had caused on me. It's all blurry due to the lack of my glasses and my horrible eyesight, but I can tell it's bad. Majority of my face is covered in bruises, cuts, and dried blood. My hair is a red brown instead of a light blond. I feel like crying, but I know I deserve this. Alfred notices me staring at myself. He had a red mark from where Dad slapped him, nothing that major."Sit." Al commands pointing to the side of the tub. I follow and sit. He had the first aid in hand and begins to clean my wounds. I cringe at the touch and the glass being removed from my skin. "It was a good thing that you were wearing shoes, hoodie, and jeans. Or we would have more wounds to work with." Alfred starts a conversation with me. I don't respond. Alfie sighs, he knows I'm shutting him out. He kneels down so we are face to face, I can see that his eyes have a serious tone when he asks "How long was Dad beating on you?". I really don't know, I know I got home about 5:30 from my walk, but I have no idea what time is it now.

"I don't know." I respond. I see Alfie is losing his temper with me. "What time is it?" I ask.

He takes a breath and looks at his watch, "6:30" _About forty-five minutes_, I think to myself. I would believe that it would take five minutes to show me the house.

"45 minutes about." I say. He does not respond, but I can tell he is upset. Alfred sighs and continues tending to my wounds.

An awkward five minutes of silence, Alfie speaks out again, "Did you eat when you went outside." _How did he figure out I was outside of the house? Maybe he checked up on me and saw that I was gone. No way he would do that, he probably meant outside my room._ I shake my head no. He moves from my face to the back of my head. He tries to part my hair, but the blood makes it hard for him. He gives up, "Take a shower to get rid of some of the blood, but don't scrub, just rinse. I'm going to get some food, what do you want?"

I go to my default answer, "I don't know, nor do I care."

"Come on Mattie, you must have some idea what you want." Alfie whines. "Fine I'll pick and you won't like it." He teases so I say something. I don't argue, one is because I'm not really hungry and two, he is most likely to go to McDonald's. It's close and it's his favorite fast food restaurant.

"Be my guess." I retaliate. He pouts as he leaves me alone. As soon as he closes the door, I undress and start the shower. Even though the glass did not penetrate through my clothing, the bruises and pain did. The water stings as I tip my head to the warm water. I can still feel the glass in the back of my head, but the lack of clumping mixture of blood and hair makes my head feel much lighter. I comb my fingers through my hair, despite Alfred warning. I figure it will help detangle my wavy hair.

I get out of the shower and get dressed. I hear a knock on the door. "Mattie are you decent?" I answer and Alfred comes in with Friendly's for us. He has a custom made burger and I have a classic turkey club. He also bought ice cream for me as well. We eat in my room, I barely eat a quarter of my sandwich. However Alfred has no problem eating his dinner, burgers are his favorite food. Eventually I give up eating and put my barely eaten sandwich back in the wrapper. He see me not eating and takes another sigh. Alfie takes the rest of my dinner downstairs and stores it for later. While he is doing that I look to see what else was in the bag he brought with him. Even though my eyesight is horrible right now, I can still tell what was in the bag. Tweezers, gauge, ointment, other medical items, then I find a container with tiny words. I bring the item closer to my face so I can read it. Concealer. _Why the fuck did Alfred buy me this? It isn't it not enough that Dad beat me up that we have to have others do it too. I'm pretty sure that Juan will beat the living shit out of me if he found out I wear make-up. As if he does not do that already. _

Oh, I did not tell you. Yeah I am constantly bullied and beat up at school, mostly by a Cuban called Juan. Not always though, sometimes it is the homophobes in the school, the shit Alfie pulls and they think I'm him, I'm an easy target, and for no good reason. But like everything else, no one cares or notices.

_When he comes back up, he's going to get a mouthful. _As on key, Alfred bursts through the door. "Hey dude, ready to get the rest of the glass from your head?" _Wow, he had a major mood change. Maybe he just wanted something to clear this somberness. Nevertheless, I am still in and bad mood and his cheekiness is not going to fix that._

"What the hell is this for!" I ask waving the tub in his face.

"Those weren't the words I was looking for. Oh yeah I forgot you was basically blind and to tell you that Dad kind of broke your glasses. I'll get you one of my spares." He runs off before I could stop him. Alfred is convinced that we both have the same prescription, which we don't, mine is way higher. He is also trying to avoid the make-up situation. He returns and places an old pair of glasses on my face.

"There, is that better?" Not really everything is just less blurry and I have to work with these until I get a new pair.

"You still have not answered my question. What is that shit for." I bring the topic back up again.

"Concealer, You'll need it, especially with those marks. Dad will get suspicious if you skip school. You don't want him to get mad again. Now let's continue." I sit once again to have glass pulled from my skin. After another hour Alfred finally gives up for good.

"I can't get it all out. We have to go the hospital or the doctors. I will tell Papa to take you before school." This act of defeat ponders questions into my mind. _What, does he know where Papa is? Does he know what happened? What will the doctors say with the back of my head full with glass? Will they turn Dad in for child abuse? Dad will figure out that we skipped school, he'll get mad again. _Finally my inter questions escape.

"Wait, did you see Papa when you left? Does he know what Dad did to me?"

"No, but I have an idea of where he went. He is either at Antonio's or Gilbert's house most likely. We can't tell what happened to Papa, he'll get mad at Dad and cause a huge scene."

"Then how the hell do we explain the glass shards in my head?"

"Mmmm. That is a pickle." he sits down next to me on the tub side, his index finger tapping his chin as his elbow rests on his knee. Then his eyes light up with an idea. "What if we told him we were walking to school and someone hit you in the back of your head with a bottle."

My initial reaction was repulsion. "Alfred that is too crazy. He will never believe that is what happened."

"Well do you have any ideas?" Alfie asks looking for my definition of reasonable.

"Accidently laying on the couch not seeing the glass on it." I suggest. Alfred thinks for a moment go over the story, looking for flaws.

"Ok, but he'll ask why Dad did not take you."

"We either tell him Dad locked himself in their room or he is drunk off his ass." Both would be somewhat believable.

"Ok, we can go with it." I can tell that Al is stressed out and tried. He leads me to my room, I sit on my bed. Alfred picks me out a pair of pajamas and tosses them on the bed."Just try not to sleep on your back. I'm going to take a shower and go to bed. We have to get up early to try to find Papa. I suggest we go to bed early." However before he closes the bathroom door, he states "If you ever need anything, I'm right next door." I change and sit back on the bed.

As I hear the water start, I run to my closet. On the top shelf there is a ragged stuffed polar bear, Kumajirou. I have had this bear for as long as I can remember. He has alway been my source of comfort when I was little. I cuddle him and cry into his already teared-stained fur, looking for comfort. I pass out sometime later.

* * *

I am awoken by a door opening. I figure it is Alfred checking on me. I look at my clock on my wooden nightstand. 2:17 the bright red lights show me. I heard footsteps approach my bed. Then the mattress gains the weight of another person. _Alfie must have had a bad dream about me and wanted to make sure I was ok. _

A raspy voice whispers into my ear. "I am sorry about earlier." The phrase is accompanied by the horrible smell of alcohol. My brain is finally awake. _This is not Alfred, it's Dad. _I try not to turn to look at him. His hands start to roam my body, and I shutter. _He can't possibly mistake me for Papa again. Come on speak up! Tell him you are not Papa! _

The words finally escape my mouth. I turn towards him "Dad I'm not..." I do not finish. Dad press his lips against mine. His tongue invading my mouth. He flips me so I am underneath him. My head is spinning with pain and disgust. We break for a moment, I try again to convince him again. "Dad, please…" interrupted by a kiss again.

I guess the only thing he heard was the please. "If you insist." is his response. Now his hand roam my body again. He grabs my pajama pants and pulls them off and he takes his shirt off.

I start to struggle again, but I am too weak. "Please stop please!" I plead, wriggling about as he unbuttons my shirt.

"Hush, Francis the boys will hear you." He has my shirt undone, we as now both are just in our underwear.

"But I'm not…" Somthing is shoved into my mouth. I find it hard to breathe. I can't see much, but I know what is happening. _Dad is raping me! _ Tears start to form in my eye sockets. A liquid starts to come from his object. I try not to let it pass from my mouth but the object is being pushed back and forth into my throat. My throat burns as the the cum slithers down. It is finally removed from my mouth.

"There, now will you be quiet." I nod my head afraid to speak again. Happy with my respond, Dad moved down. He partly removes my briefs, exposing my penis. He strokes it, making it hard instantly. The tears roll down my face as my underwear is pulled further down. He enters me, thrusting in the same motion as he did in my mouth. I let out and inaudible scream as my ass expands. I feel like I'm going to vomit, but as he brushes along my prostate I feel a weird pleasure. I let out a soft moan, which cause him to go in father. My nether regions starts to swell as well as my buttock. Finally Dad comes and I can't handle my own and come as well. I continue to cry with a sense of dishonor fills me for not speaking up and being strong. He remove himself from me and whispers in my ear, "You know where to find me." Dad leaves the door open.

I am left in a fetal position, shivering and covered in a sticky mess. I sniffle finally running out of tears to cry with. Done with being in my disgust. I bunch up the soiled bed covers and throw them to a pile on the floor. I try to walk to get new bedding, but my bottom half stings with pain with each step. I wobble to the closet and place the new sheets near the bed. I feel sick and nasty. _Maybe a shower will help me. I don't want to wake up Alfred, maybe I can shower in a different bathroom._ I limp towards the door, my hand reaching for the brass doorknob. However my brain stops it in midair. _What if Dad is in the hallway and waiting for me? I should bring clothes to cover myself. _My hand switches from the handle to the light switch. The light blinds me a little, but I quickly adjust. I waddle to my dresser and slip on a new set of pajamas. Then I go to the nearest bathroom, running as fast as my aching legs could carry me. Luckily the next bathroom was not that far and no run in with Dad. I quickly lock the door, enclosing me from the rest of the world. I strip and start the water. I just sit there, letting the water hit me. A mixture of shower stream and tears run down my face. Full of broken heartedness and hatred for myself. So much that I want to hurt myself. _Maybe cutting myself. It's small and it will eventually will go away. _I rise from the tub and step on the fuzzy bathroom rug. _Dad and Papa have razors hidden somewhere in this house. _I find them in the cupboard, a new package too. The plastic wrapping has not been broken yet. Well now it is. I reach in to grab one and take off the security cover for the razor. _Now, how do I get the blades out? I don't want to cut up my fingers, Alfred will surely notice that. Maybe push it from the back? _I attempt and the sound of metal hitting the linoleum floor confirms my theory. I pick up the pieces throwing away the plastic razor in the garage. I go back to my running shower with the three sharp metal blades. _Well here I go._ I make my first cut out of many more to come. It leaves a red mark, hardly breaking the skin. Frustrated with the first result, I slash again at my flesh, only this time harder. Now the hot crimson blood runs down my leg, giving me a sense of relief. Then I stick my thigh under the rushing water, temporarily feeling a stinging sensation as the once clean water is contaminated with red blood. I make a few more marks before finally feeling satisfied and turn the water off. The wounds are still slightly bleeding. _I'll use some of the gauze the Alfie brought to wrap them. _I change into the clothes that I bought with me and glance at the blades still in the shower. _I should bring them with me, in case someone finds them in the shower._ I slip the 3 blades into my pajama pocket and ran back into my room.

I find Kumajirou while walking blindly to the bed. Thankfully I threw him across the room in my sleep and he did not get soiled like my bedding. I clutch to him for comfort again. I want to flop onto my bed and pass out, but the sheets need to be put on and the memories of moments ago haunt me from sleeping there. _I could sleep in another room, but then Alfred will get worried of where I am. I do not want to tell anyone what happened tonight, ever. _I head towards the bathroom and bandage my cuts with the gauze. _Would it be weird if I slept with Alfie? It would be normal for me to be scared of Dad. _I enter Alfred's room. Alfred mumbles at the light from the wide-open bathroom door. I shut the light off. "Hey Alfie can I sleep with you?" I ask as I approach the bed in the darkness.

"What? hmmm? Oh Mattie, it's you. Can you repeat what you said? I was sleeping." Alfred awakes groggily.

I repeat, "Can I sleep with youuuuuu?" I almost trip on one of Alfred's game controllers that he left on the floor.

"Sure." He responses as he moves over to make room for me. I climb with him. Then he asks the question, "Hey why aren't you sleeping in your bed?"

I start to panic. I should tell him to save time trying to come up with an excuse, but I don't want him to worry either. "Bad dreams." I lied. Alfred mumbles an understandable response and drifts back to sleep. Meanwhile I stay up for a while longer. Whenever I tried to close my eyes I image Dad on top of me again. Then I would jolt awake again.

Eventually I pass out from exhaustion, unfortunately it was not long. I am woken by Alfred at 5. "Hey, dude time to wake up! Get dressed, we'll eat breakfast with Papa. Hurry up! The last time I checked Dad was still passed out, we might be able to slip past him without any problems!"

I walk to my room, my legs were capable of walking now. I change into my school clothes and step out to the hallway. Immediately I hear a loud snore. I freeze in fear. _Dad is close, I can hear him. _I peer over the banister to see Dad passed out on the couch. Now I am paralyzed. _What if he is not clothed? Will Alfred gain suspicion? What will he do when he wakes up and we are gone? _

Alfie snaps me out of my frozen daze. "Hey snap out of it, he's asleep. He can't hurt you. Come to the bathroom with me so I can put this stuff on you." He hushed as he held the concealer container. We go to the bathroom that I cut myself. It is a good thing I hid the broken razor in the trash so that Alfie would not get suspicion.

As Alfred applies the make-up, I ask, "What will happen when Dad finds out we are gone?"

"Way ahead of you little bro." He pulls out a folded up piece of lined paper from the back pocket of his pants. I open the note to see what it says.

_Dad, _

_Mattie and I left early to walk to school. Sorry for not telling you before we left. However you seemed so tired that we did not want to wake you._

_Love, _

_Alfred and Matthew_

"Good, he'll believe that." I approve handing the letter back to him. He continues with the make-up for a minute or two.

"There. Did I get them all?" Alfie asks as he hands me a mirror. I say, Alfred could work as a makeup artist. The bruises and scratches are completely gone. I nod. "Alright then, let's get going then." He runs to his room to hide the concealer. We creep down the stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible. Then we slip out the back door, leaving the note on the kitchen table. Once we leave our property, I let out a sigh of relief. Part one successful, but now was the harder part two, finding Papa.

"Whose house are we going to first?" I ask.

"Gilbert's. You know Lovino does not like unwelcomed guests and I think Elizabeta would be more welcoming for Papa."

"Yeah, but wouldn't Papa go to Antonio's for support and be closer to the house?"

"See that is were you a wrong little brother. If Papa was really mad at Dad, he would try to get as far away from the house as he could."

"We should at least try Antonio's first in case he isn't a Gilbert's and we don't have to walk back." I suggest.

"Fine, we'll go to Antonio's first, but if you're wrong then you owe me 5 bucks." He starts to run towards the Carriedo-Vargas household.

_How can he run so fast with his backpack on? Wait a minute he does not have one. Ugh, Alfred, Dad is going to kill you when he finds it. _I finally catch up to him, slightly out of breath. "Hey Alfie, did you forget anything?"

"Uhh, I don't think so." He checks his pocket and pulls out a pack of gum, a cell phone, a pencil, a wallet, and an ipod. "Got everything I need." He responds.

"Alfred what about your backpack?"

"Oh Mattie, you are nerd." He says as he ruffles my hair. I wince at his touch. "Oh sorry, I forgot. Anyways, I don't need it. It's not like the homework is due today. I have until Friday to turn it in."

"Yeah, but what is Dad going to think once he finds your bag? Or did you hide it in your messy of a room?" I ask

"Oh, fucking shit! I left it by the couch in the den, it will be the first thing he fucking sees! We have to go back." he starts to run back to our house.

"Alfie wait, I have an idea." I yell as I run after him.

He stops and asks "What is it?"

"What if we have Papa drive you home to pick it up?" I suggest. "We are almost the Antonio's and Gilbert's house is closer than going all way back home."

"That might work, if Dad is asleep. But what if he is awake and sees Papa's car outside?" we start to walk to Antonio's house again.

"We tell him that Dad is still mad at him. He's smart too. He won't park outfront if we tell him Dad is drunk." We are finally at Antonio's house. "And I'm sure that you will get your backpack soon because Papa is here." We walk up the the door and knock. We are greeted by a happy Spanish man, Antonio.

Antonio has been Papa's friend since forever. He also teaches Spanish at the high school in our school district. He married Lovino, a lazy foul-mouthed Italian. Together the adopted Lovina. She plays tenor saxophone in the band and I am semi-friends with her. Lovina also has a sister Feliciana, who Lovino's brother, Feliciano, adopted with his partner Ludwig.

"Ahh Matthew and Alfred, ¡Entre! What brings you to mi casa?"

"We need to find where Papa went. Dad kicked him out of the house." Alfred explains.

"Si, I heard. He came here first but you know Lovi."

"Who the fuck are you talking to, you damn tomato bastard?" Lovino interrupts Antonio talking to us.

"Just Matthew and Alfred, Lovi. Están buscando a Francis." Antonio shouts to the other room.

"Don't speak spanish to me, you bastardo." Lovino responses as he peeps in. He then returns to whatever he was doing in the other room.

"Anyways, why are you looking for Francis? Is he not at Gilbert's?" Antonio pesters us as he leads into the house and away from the foyer.

"We went to your house first because you are closer than Gilbert's and we did not want to walk back. We need to find him to…" Alfred pauses to think of why we want Papa.

"Because he left us with Dad, who is drunk off his ass." I fill in for him. Antonio's eyes widen and Alfred gives me a look that I should have not told Antonio that.

Antonio stops and kneels down next to both Alfred and I. "Arthur did not hurt or do anything to you guys, right."

"Yes!"

"No." Alfred and I respond at the same time but Alfred answered first. Now Antonio has a worried look on his face.

"Well, which one is it, niños?"

"Yes." Alfred says slightly hitting me. "Dad beat up Matthew and now he has a head for of glass from the broken bottles. We need Papa to get him to the ER."

_WHAT THE HELL IS HE DOING?! Is he just abandoning the plan because he wants to be truthful? That's a bunch of bullshit! I've covered his ass so many times before due to his lies._

"Matthew, is this true?" Antonio's hand is now on my shoulder. "Did anything else happen?" Oh my God, his grassy green eyes can see inside of you and tell if there is something you are hiding. I wonder how Lovina gets away with this.

Unfortunately, Antonio has too much trust in people to tell him the truth. I lie to him, "The only thing he did was beat me." Antonio lets out a sigh a rubs my head, a sign of affection from him. I wince at the pain, knowing he did it accidently. "But you can't tell Papa what happened."

"Por qué no?" He asks feeling like there is something I am not telling him, which is true.

"Because Papa will be mad for what Dad did and have another fight with Dad. Perhaps leave forever." Alfred responses for me. Antonio bites his lips and thinks.

"Ok, I will not tell him and I'll drive you to Gilbert's. He should be there. Lovina, are you ready to go to school?"

"Heck no, it's like 6 fucking o'clock! I just woke up! Padre will take me. Why the hell are you going to work so damn early anyways?" She tiredly walks down the stairs. "Oh, Matthew, Alfred, why are you guys here so early in the fucking morning?"

"Lovina, language." Antonio waves a finger at her. "Alfred and Matthew are here for a ride to school. Francis and Arthur can't today."

"If you do not want me to learn swear words, you should not have let me near Padre, Papi." Lovina hugs her father goodbye. "Anyways, see you later, Matthew." She heads off to the kitchen to have breakfast.

"Well, let's get going. Goodbye, Lovi, I'm leaving." Antonio yells as he grabs the car keys in the basket near the front door. Immediately, the Italian runs to Antonio to give him a kiss. Afterwards Lovino smacks him.

"Don't be a dick and leave without giving me a kiss goodbye."

We leave with Antonio and we arrive at Gilbert's in about five minutes. Alfred has a huge smile on his face. He knows I lost the bet and owe him five dollars. _It's a good thing Antonio drove us to Gilbert's. That would have been a fifteen minute walk. _Alfred and I exit the car but Antonio comes out as well.

"Wanted to check up on Francis." He explains. "He was not in good shape when he came to my house." Antonio knocks and we are greeted by an albino Prussian.

"Hallo, Antonio! Francis will be happy to see you." He then looks down at Alfred and I. "You brought the boys too. That will help." Gilbert lets us in first and walks behind us and whispers to Antonio. "Warum zum Teufel ließen Sie die Jungen hier kommen? Francis ist ein verdammtes Wrack."

"Ellos lo buscaban. Francisca olvidó de ellos y Arthur a Matthew dado una palizaux. Nada esto mal."

"Was die verdammte Hölle! Versucht er, diese Familie einzeln zu brechen? Ist Matthew ganz richtig?" Gilbert is not longer whispering and I feel the blood-red stare of the albino looking over me. I guess Antonio told him what happened. So much for him not telling anyone.

"Gilbert, What did I say about swearing in the house? And I didn't care if it is in German keep it down." Elizabeth responses to Gilbert overreaction frying pan in hand.

"Schade, schatz. I tell you later." He tells Elizabeta. "Come with me boys, Francis is in the guest room." Gilbert leads us up the stairs and we take a sharp turn left into the hallway and enter the door to the right. I can already hear quiet sobs and smell a faint odor of cigarette smoke.

Papa tried to quit smoking since we were little. Dad would not allow him near us if he had a cigarette in his hand. Probability fears of burning us or getting secondhand smoke. Most of the time, Papa was good at it, however, if he was stressed or depressed, he could smoke though three packs a day. I'm surprised that Elizabeta has not beaten the shit out him yet.

Gilbert knocks on the door. "Oh Francy, your awesome friend brought you a surprise!" He opens the door.

It was the worst I've seen Papa ever to this day. His usually flowing imperfect blond hair was ruffled and seemed dirty. His clear blue eyes were red and full of tears. His eyes were set on the window in the bedroom. He hardly moved when Gilbert opened the door. His nose was red and running. The rest of his body was hidden under the blankets. I can tell that he had his knees up to his chest, hugging his legs for comfort.

"Je ne faim pas, Gilbert. Je veux juste mourir." Papa responds barely moving. I can't stand Papa being this miserable anymore.

"Papa!" I cry as I jump on to the bed. "Ne dites pas choses comme ça! Je vous adore, Alfred vous adore! S'il vous plait, ne tuez pas vous!" I hug him and hide the tears streaming down my face in his chest. I feel a hand hug my body. I look up to see Papa holding me tight. I must have awoken him from his depression. I take a quick look at the doorway. Gilbert is trying his hardest to hold back his tears and Alfred is dumbfounded because he has no idea what Papa and I are saying.

"Oh, mon petit Matthew, je n'irais nulle part." Papa whispers in my ear. Then he ruffles my hair. I try not to wince so Papa does not have to worry about me. But I am bad at cover ups and Papa notices. "Matthew, what is the matter?" His blue eyes filled with worry.

_Oh, Maple, What do I tell him? The truth or our lie?_ "Uhh." I stutter. "Don't get mad, but…" I decide to go with the lie. "I accidentally fell on to the couch and the glass on the couch is in my head."

Papa immediately jumps, "Oh mon dieu!" He takes a closer look at my head to see the glass shards. "Why didn't you tell Arthur about this?" When he said Arthur it was full of hatred.

"Uhh, no. He was drunk and passed out in the bedroom."

"Oh mon dieu!" Papa sighed as his face fell into his hands. "Come on I'll take you to the hospital." He motion Alfred to come closer. In a faint whisper, Papa says, "I want you to stay here. I do not want you near that house until this is all over. d'accord?" He gets out of bed and starts to make himself "decent" for the public eye.

Alfred and I look at each other. Mentally, we think of one thing, How are we going to get Alfred's bookbag? "Uhh Papa?" Alfred starts.

"Oui, What is it Alfred?"

"Umm, We need to go back to the house."

"Pourquoi? If it is clothing, I will simply buy new clothes."

"No, Papa. I accidently left my backpack at home and I need it for school."

I have never seen such fear in my Papa's eyes. We did not receive an answer right away. Once we get to the car, Papa looks at us in the back seat. "Are you sure Arthur did not harm you in any other way, right?"

"Yes, nothing happened." I replied. The ride home was filled with silence until we are almost a block away. Papa parks the car and looks back at us once again.

"Alfred, I am letting you go here to get your backpack. Matthew and I will ride around for a little bit. Be here in five minutes, if not you have to walk to school." Alfred jumps out of the car and runs towards the house. Papa and I sit in silence for a moment and then Papa turns back to me. "Alright Matthew tell me what really happened."

"But Papa, I already did." I respond as truthfully as I could.

"Matthew, I am not an idiot or oblivious as your father. I know that you are smart enough not to lay down on a couch full of glass. Those are Alfred's old glasses you are wearing. Also I can tell you are wearing makeup and it washed off a bit when you were crying. Now spill it."

_Oh shit. He saw through my lies. Maybe if I start crying he'll leave me alone. _I quickly whip up some tears. "Please, don't make them take me back!"

"Uh, Matthew what are you talking about? Please don't cry." Papa tries to comfort me as he hands me a tissue from the glove compartment. I climb over the seats to sit in the passenger seat now.

"The social workers taking me back to the orphanage!"

"Alright now you have to tell me what happened." Papa places an arm around me, trying to calm me down.

I sniffle and blow my nose in the tissue. _I'll just tell Papa about the beating. Dad would get in so much trouble if tell about last night. _"I tried to follow you as you were leaving, but I was too late. When I walked back into the house, Daddy attacked me. He thought that I was you and would not stop until Alfred pulled him off." I looked at Papa. His knuckles were turning white as his grip tightened on the steering wheel. I could tell that he wanted payback. He shifted the car into drive. _He really isn't going to confront Dad, is he?_ Thankfully he turned the corner rather than go straight to the house. We drive in silence for half a block.

"However, you need a better excuse than what you gave me. The doctors will not believe that you have that much damage if you laid down for a little bit." Silence takes over the car once again. "How about you and Alfred were roughhousing in the house and knocked over one on my vases and landed on the broken glass?"

I first I was appalled at the idea, but it seemed logical and believable enough. "Sure, I suppose." We circle around for two blocks and finally get to where we dropped off Alfred. Nearly five minutes passed. I start to worry. _What if Dad caught Alfred? _A few seconds later I see Alfred running towards the car, this time backpack in hand. He jumps into the car to an empty backseat.

"Hey, where did Mattie go?"

"He is up here, mon petit."

"Aww, how come Mattie gets to sit up front?"

"Because I let him." Papa places the car in drive and starts to drive to the school. Of course the main thing on Alfred's mind is food.

"Papa can you take us out to breakfast? We did not have enough time to eat before we left."

Papa sighs. "I'll drop you off by the school and give you ten dollars. You can get something before the bell rings."

"But what about Mattie?"

"We will get something after we are done at the hospital."

"Awwe I want to go to the hospital too. You know, to support Mattie."

"Oh no, you hoped that you would be able to skip from school with your Papa. But not today" We finally arrive at the school. "Imagine what Arthur would do if he found out you skipped. So I expect you to be on time for school. If not, I'll take away your video games." Papa threatens. He lets Alfred off in front of the school. Thankfully, there is a small food court area nearby the school and of course the school's food.

"Yeah, yeah fine." Alfred says as he rushes out of the car to visit with his friends.

Then Papa laid on the horn to get Alfred's small attention span. "Alfred you forgot this!" He yells as he waves the ten dollar bill from the car window. Alfred had his "oh right" expression on his face along with a bit of embarrassment.

"Thanks Papa!" He shouts as he runs back to his friends. Papa and I drive to the hospital. After we told the doctors "what happened" the doctors immediately picked the glass out of my skull. A few of the cuts need stitches but other than that nothing was that serious. We leave the hospital around 8:30. Then Papa asks me what I want for breakfast. Of course I respond with Tim Hortons. I love that place, almost as much as Alfred likes McDonalds.

Papa sighs. "You know all the coffee that you drink will stunt your growth." He teases

"I don't care. Their stuff is so good though. If I end up a midget for the rest of my life, so be it."

Papa laughs at my statement. "Fine, we will go to Timmies then."

* * *

After breakfast, Papa drops me off at the school. The rest of the day goes by normally. Surprisingly, I did not have any run ins with Juan. He would have irritated my scars. Papa was there to pick us up after school. We ended up staying at Gilbert house before Papa and Dad finally made up. Now, everything is back to "normal".

But the events that happened over those 2 day have scarred me both physically and mentally. No matter how hard I try, I cannot remove the images of Dad hitting and rapping me out of my head. I still have not told anyone about that night. However, I am fearful that it will happen again. Plus school is never on my side. So my limbs become my canvas for my pain, hoping that I will finally be free of this guilt.

* * *

Están buscando a Francis: They are looking for Francis

Warum zum Teufel ließen Sie die Jungen hier kommen? Francis ist ein verdammtes Wrack: Why the hell did you let the boys come here? Francis is a fucking wreck.

Ellos lo buscaban. Francisca olvidó de ellos y Arthur a Mateo dado una paliza Nada esto mal.: They were looking for him. Francis forgot about them and Arthur beat up Matthew. Nothing that bad.

Was die verdammte Hölle! Versucht er, diese Familie einzeln zu brechen? Ist Matthew ganz richtig?: What the fucking hell! Is he trying to break this family apart? Is Matthew alright?

Schade, schatz: Sorry, Sweetheart.

Je ne faim pas, Gilbert. Je veux juste mourir. I am not hungry, Gilbert. I want to die.

Ne dites pas choses comme ça! Je vous adore, Alfred vous adore! Sil vous plait, ne tuez pas vous!: Don't say things like that! I love you, Alfred loves you! Please don't kill yourself

Oh, mon petit Matthew, je n'irais nulle part: Oh my little Matthew, I am not going anywhere.


End file.
